


Bleeding Me

by Dulcinea



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Blood and Injury, Brain Damage, Canon Disabled Character, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Gift Fic, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Protective vegeta, Traumatic Brain Injury, sad Goku
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:28:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28419870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dulcinea/pseuds/Dulcinea
Summary: Goku wasn’t himself, at all. He never had ‘off’ days to begin with, but Vegeta saw the changes. But he wasn’t going to ask what was wrong. Never.Then one simple accident changed Vegeta’s stance.
Relationships: Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 83





	Bleeding Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkWhirly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkWhirly/gifts).



> I hope this put a smile on your face, Whirly!! Your drawings are gorgeous and I hope this fic fulfills what you were looking for. 
> 
> There WILL be a sequel to this and it’ll be posted some time in March (Kakavege week!). :)

Goku never had an ‘off’ day. He never seemed to not smile. So when Vegeta found him staring out in the distance one day, leaning on his shovel, folded arms on top, it caught him off guard. Because then the smile came back, the second Goku’s eyes fell on his again. The second Vegeta grunted a hello and a ‘let’s go, Kakarot.’ Goku looked like himself again. 

But those looks kept coming. Wayward, almost forlorn looks, staring out into the distance. Almost sad, lost in thought. Vegeta wasn’t going to ask him what was wrong, though. Not his place. Not what he did, either—Vegeta never, ever asked Goku how he was feeling, what he was thinking, where his head was, none of that. It was about sparring. Of the two of them, only Goku was the one who would ask those inane questions. 

Soon, though, Goku started asking him questions that made no sense. Things like, “Have you ever felt weird things before?” Things like, “When did you know you were going to be okay?” Questions that confused Vegeta and concerned him too, but he didn’t bring up the concern. Never. Only the confusion and the anger over it, and Goku would laugh that look away with a scratch of his head and a, “Sorry about that!” Then they’d go back to whatever task at hand. 

It was like this ever since Moro. No one seemed to notice these changes in Goku. Subtle, strange changes that apparently only happened around Vegeta, and he wasn’t about to go ask anyone questions. If Goku wanted to act this way around him and him alone, fine, because it would only be a matter of time before everyone else saw the changes too. 

Months passed. No one pulled Vegeta to the side asking what was wrong with Goku. No one noticed, at all, the sad sighs, the wistful looks, the way Goku’s shoulders rolled forward, how he seemed to carry a weight on his back that threatened to buckle his knees and bury him into the Earth. 

Why, though? What happened? What could’ve brought this on? 

How could anything in this universe hurt Goku like… _this?_

But Vegeta wasn’t going to say anything. They sparred. Goku asked his questions here and there, from time to time. Questions like, “Why did this happen now?” “How can anyone know something’s not right?” “Does anyone else know what it feels like?” Things that made Vegeta pause and almost, _almost_ give in to answering those questions for real, rather than snapping at him in anger. Things that painted Goku in a new light for Vegeta—a light he didn’t particularly care for. 

This wasn’t the man Vegeta came to know over the years. Something happened after Moro, but he seemed fine, per say. Goku still tended to his fields, still lived with his wife, still had his normal life. Was that it, then? Was he feeling unfulfilled in some way? Was he itching for another fight like Moro again? 

A thought Vegeta abhorred wouldn’t leave him alone, thanks to Goku’s stupid antics. A thought that haunted him every time they finished sparring and Vegeta went home, catching Goku’s unnatural, sad stare, focused somewhere out in the distance. 

_Am I not enough for him?_

A stupid, preposterous thought. Meaningless. It didn’t matter what Goku thought, what those stupid question meant, what was happening to him, and it _especially_ didn’t matter if Vegeta bored him. 

Then another change occurred. One Vegeta never thought would ever happen. One he hadn’t anticipated ever happening during a spar no less. 

Vegeta never, ever expected Goku to have his guard down. 

He bit back his scream of horror when Goku took on a blast of his full on mid-spar. Vegeta soared down to the Earth from above, digging through the rubble and the soil in the crater Goku created, coughing up dust and ash. He couldn’t feel anything, or hear anything. Like he was separated from his body, he watched his gloved hands shake, watched them dig, and dig, and dig, heard his voice screaming, but it all sounded muffled, underwater, like his vision. That too went underwater, blurry, and he felt hot, somehow. Hot and cold because he trembled everywhere but he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see well, couldn’t hear well either—

There. 

Pale skin under the rocks. Pale skin, singed hair, burnt clothes and—

Vegeta heard a muffled scream. 

Blood. 

So much _blood._

His throat felt raw. His body felt cold. 

He watched his hands cradle Goku’s limp, broken body out of the rubble. Rocks tumbled to the ground off Goku’s body, spilled down his exposed, caved in chest, his deadweight arms and legs like rivulets of sand. 

This accidental decimation. 

Vegeta felt something wet fall down his cheeks. 

Then, the eyes peaked open. A tiny slither of an opening. 

Goku’s bloodied lips curled up. He muttered whisper-soft, “S-Sorry.”

Something inside Vegeta _snapped._

His mind shut down while his body reacted. Like a passenger in his own body, Vegeta observed everything from the sidelines. How he rushed Goku right over to Capsule Corp, right to the Gravity Chamber, where he knew exactly where his stash of emergency senzu beans were. How he chewed up the bean in his mouth and covered Goku’s with his own, feeding it to him that way. How he massaged Goku’s throat with his shaking fingers so it could go down. How he held onto Goku as the bean did its work, healing what it could—the chest no longer sunken, all the bones setting back into place, his face reconstructing, his skin and tendons and muscles knitting back together piece by piece. Until he was fine superficially. Until he looked normal again. 

But he wasn’t normal. He wasn’t himself. He was not okay, at all. This whole time, Goku wasn’t _Goku,_ and Vegeta was flat-out done leaving it up to others to do what he should’ve done long ago. 

With Goku passed out in his arms, Vegeta placed two fingers to his forehead and concentrated hard on a place he knew, far from anyone. He could sense Bulma coming his way, his son too—in the distance, Gohan and Piccolo as well—but they had their chance. This was his job now. 

A few seconds later, Vegeta instant transmissioned them away to the Lookout. He found Dende in the middle of a conversation with Mr. Popo and walked right up to them, cutting them off before they could say anything to him. 

“I’m using the Time Chamber for a few hours,” he said. 

“W-What?” Dende rushed up to his side, a sharp gasp ripping out of him. “Oh gods—what happened?”

“Don’t let anyone in.”

“Oh, they won’t be able to—”

“Good.”

“But is Goku okay?! Do you need my help?!”

“Physically, yes, he’s fine. Bean did the work.” He bypassed Dende, knowing exactly where the chamber was. 

“What do you mean ‘physically’?” Dende caught up to his side. “Did something happen to him?”

“Must’ve.” At the door to the chamber, he snapped his attention back to Dende, glaring at him. “I did _not_ harm him.”

“I-I wasn’t implying—”

“Not for you. For them, should they come.” Holding Goku in one strong arm, he used the other hand to turn the door’s ornate knob. “One week should be enough, but if I need more, then I’ll take it.”

He waited for Dende’s nod before he walked inside, shutting the door behind him. 

After three years of being in the chamber, the vast emptiness of white almost felt like coming home for Vegeta. It was the only place he could think of where even if somehow, someway, someone was able to get inside, Vegeta would’ve had at least an hour, maybe more, with Goku, alone. More than enough time to dig out of the man what happened to him the last few months. 

Vegeta brought Goku over to one of the two beds, laying him down gently on top. He brushed a gloved hand over the top of his bangs—and froze at the sight of all the leftover blood and dirt there. A quick glance at his outfit, and Vegeta stripped himself of his clothes, throwing them far, far away, out of his line of sight somewhere in the chamber. 

He did the same to Goku’s torn gi as well, keeping his eyesight above Goku’s waistline to the best of his ability the entire time. It didn’t feel right, how light Goku’s legs and arms felt. How easy it was for Vegeta to put him under the sheets and tuck them around his waist. Goku barely stirred as Vegeta worked, and he was okay with that. For once, Goku looked normal. He looked like himself as he slept on. The most himself Vegeta had seen in months now.

A few minutes later, Vegeta showered with both the bathroom door and shower door slightly ajar so he could check on Goku here and there. The man slept on, Vegeta keeping a keen eye on the rise and fall of Goku’s bare chest and belly, the sight easing any anxieties that bubbled up inside him.

It didn’t feel weird after he showered to grab a washcloth and a small bowl full of warm water. It didn’t feel strange at all to wash the grime, dried blood and dirt that caked onto Goku’s face, neck, chest and arms. Vegeta took his time washing him, careful not to disturb his needed sleep. He ran the warm, wet washcloth over Goku’s skin, dipping it back into the water as needed, until there was not a trace of what happened before left on Goku’s body and the water was a filthy dark brown. 

He grabbed another washcloth, a dry one, to wipe away the residue water on Goku’s body. Running it over his chest and neck. Patting it over Goku’s parted lips, his pale cheeks, his forehead. In his sleep, Goku moaned, and Vegeta replaced the washcloth with his own bare hand, running the fingertips over Goku’s forehead in small, soft strokes. He skipped them up to Goku’s hair, tracing mindless shapes into his scalp, down to one side, then to the other, then back to the middle, until Goku sighed in his sleep and appeared more relaxed than before. Until Goku seemed to finally be at peace. 

The sight was enough for Vegeta to pass out beside him on the bed, naked over the sheets, curled up close. He kept a hand next to Goku’s arm—near the wrist. So he could feel his pulse the entire time. So he would notice if something went wrong again. He’d be prepared this time. 

Because of how close he was to Goku, with his hand on Goku’s wrist and his shoulder almost brushing Goku’s, Vegeta woke up the second he felt Goku move. 

Vegeta clamped his fingers down on that wrist. 

Goku startled in place, one leg peeking out of the bedsheets. He snapped his attention to Vegeta, mouth parted open, eyes bugged out. “You’re awake?”

“Lay back down.” He tugged on the wrist—

“I can’t.” Goku jerked it back. “I shouldn’t—”

“I nearly killed you, Kakarot.”

“Vegeta—”

“Do you know how that made me feel?” Vegeta squeezed that wrist hard, enough to make it bruise, but Goku needed to stay. He needed to be in bed, needed to rest, needed to listen to him. “Do you? Do you understand how fucking _terrified_ I was?” Needed Goku to hear everything that passed through his lips, even though his voice trembled with every word. “You took on one of my attacks _full on,_ without _any_ sort of shield up, and you expect me to let you go after that?” 

Goku’s lower lip trembled. His eyes shined. “I-I’m sorry—”

“Stop.” He jerked on Goku’s wrist again. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry.” This time, Goku followed, laying back down, pulling his leg back into the sheets. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“B-But…” Vegeta watched wetness pool in the corner of Goku’s black eyes. How he seemed to sink deeper into the bed and the pillows. “I scared you.”

He sighed, releasing Goku’s wrist in his strong grip so he could hold it Goku’s hand in his instead. He ran his thumb over the top of Goku’s knuckles, one by one, back and forth, listening to the sound of Goku’s breathing, feeling the gentle pulse under his ring and pinky fingers. 

Under his breath, Vegeta said, “If you want to make it up to me, then tell me what happened.”

“Huh?”

“You haven’t been yourself for months, Kakarot. I don’t know how anyone else hadn’t noticed yet, but I did, every time. It wasn’t even those questions you’d ask that threw me off. You looked different. You acted different. You didn’t even smile the same anymore. Like a weight anchored itself to your back and you let it attach voluntarily.” He stopped his ministrations, his thumb falling off to the side, staring at Goku’s torn cuticles. “What’s wrong, Kakarot? What happened?”

The hand in his shook. He watched Goku’s fingers slowly retreat—and then stop. Fingertips rested over the middle of his palm. In his purview, he caught the bottom of Goku’s trembling jaw. Heard his breathing pick up and turn wet. 

“I… I don’t know.” A sniff. “I really don’t know, Vegeta.”

Vegeta maneuvered both of their hands so he could twine their fingers together, palm meeting palm. He didn’t lift his head to look Goku in the eye, offering the man some semblance of privacy by maintaining his attention on their clasped hands. 

“I was over at Gohan’s one day, playing with Pan, and I noticed there were things… off about me. Things I never really realized were pretty bad. Like, I was doing some kindergarten homework with Pan, and she could identify the objects in a book easier than me. I helped her write some words in her notebook, but she could read so much better than me. It was to the point where my own granddaughter had to help me, and I was so embarrassed…” Another sniff. “Especially when Gohan found out. I don’t blame Pan for telling him about this, but ever since then, I’ve felt terrible. Gohan said I had nothing to be ashamed about and that he’d find me a good doctor, but it’s not right, Vegeta. It’s not okay. I’m a grown man and I can’t remember things well. I can’t reach for things in front of me without double checking if it’s the right thing. My brain tells me one thing and my body does another. I mean, I know I’m dumb, I accepted that a long time ago, but this?” Goku squeezed their twined hand—hard. “I haven’t slept right since that day. I worry over what I think, what I see, what I’m feeling, if others are noticing, if everyone had known all along and were too polite to say anything, if I’m bothering anyone, if anyone even cares—and that’s not me, Vegeta. I don’t think like that. I’ve never, ever thought like this. I—Vegeta, I don’t like to _eat_ anymore.”

Vegeta lifted his head. 

Goku stared right at him. 

Pure terror. That was all Vegeta saw. 

“I’ve been forcing myself to eat,” Goku continued, “so no one worries about me. I’ve always liked eating, but it doesn’t make me happy anymore. All I can think about how much of a burden I must’ve been for people all those years, how guilty I feel for putting my loved ones through this— and now with you?” Goku shook his head no. “I shouldn’t have been sparring with you in the first place. But I didn’t want to worry you. I was already doing that with all those questions I was asking that I knew made no sense to anyone but myself, but you—Vegeta, you—” Goku took in a shaky breath, squeezing Vegeta’s hand again. “You’re the only one I trusted enough. If I was going to eventually break—if I was going to make a mistake like the one I did today—I knew you’d help me. I knew you’d do the right thing, and you did. You took me away to here, away from everyone, so I could figure this out, alone. With you. You did exactly what I needed. You knew.” A sad smile appeared on that pale face. “I’m sorry it was a really, really bad mistake, though.”

Vegeta squeezed Goku’s hand in return, just as hard, his knuckles turning white from effort. But Goku didn’t wince, didn’t hiss in pain. He smiled up at him from where he laid on the pillow, looking at him with trust, with reverence—

His own vision blurred. His throat constricted tight. 

He clenched his teeth, swallowing against the tightness. Through his nose, he released a long, long exhale, nodding to Goku once. 

In a hoarse whisper, Vegeta said, “You are forgiven.”

Goku’s smile briefly became normal—a sight that untangled the tightness welled up in Vegeta’s gut—and he lolled his head to the side, his eyelids fluttering shut. The action released the tears welled up and Vegeta watched them roll down his cheek and the corner of his nose. 

One last squeeze to Goku’s hand, and Vegeta let it go. He laid curled up on his side in bed, watching Goku next to him, his hand on the pillow. Listened to his breathing temper out. Felt his frazzled ki relax. 

Vegeta waited until he knew Goku was out again so he could wipe away at the wetness on his pale face. 

By the time Goku woke from his slumber, a full day had passed in the chamber. Vegeta never left his side the whole time. He brought to Goku’s beside a cup of cool water and a bowl of bone broth. Reason told him that Goku could feed himself, but Vegeta didn’t care. He sat next to Goku in bed, still naked, helping him up into his own seated position against the headboard. He held a spoonful of the broth to Goku’s lips, blowing on it a few times to ensure it wasn’t too hot, and eased it past Goku’s dry, parted lips. 

It didn’t matter how long it took to feed Goku. Vegeta took his time, feeding Goku spoonful by spoonful, and as he did, Vegeta noticed the small difference in his body frame. Very minuscule changes that to a casual observer seemed fine, but Vegeta knew this body well. He knew the size and shape of Goku’s torso, and it was a smidge smaller than before. A fraction slimmer than usual. He still had his large frame, his built muscles, but the differences were there to Vegeta’s trained eye. 

Once the bowl was emptied, he helped Goku drink from the glass of water, tilting it to his lips, pulling it away here and there so Goku didn’t chug it all in one go. 

When Goku finished, he looked away, a small shy smile appearing on his face. “Um, can I have some more water? Please?”

Vegeta nodded, leaving the bed for the kitchen. When he came back, Goku was still in bed, still sitting up against the headboard, still under the sheets, and Vegeta nearly sighed in relief. 

He sat next to Goku again, tilting the cup to his lips. Again, Goku let him help, until every drop of water was gone. 

Goku took the empty cup from him. “Thank you.” He sat it on top of the nightstand beside the bed. “I really appreciate what you’re doing.”

His mouth worked before his brain caught up to him when Vegeta said, “You deserve it.”

“Huh?”

Those words came out again. “You deserve this.” Words that he wouldn’t have dared said aloud, if they weren’t alone like they were, here in the Chamber. “You matter, Kakarot.”

Big, black eyes zeroed right onto him. Goku’s parted lips trembled a little. 

The disbelief there, on his face. The guilt. 

Goku gave that guilt a voice. “But—”

“You matter. You’re the one people lean on—” He touched Goku’s hand again, his palm resting over the top of his knuckles and fingers. “And you deserve to lean on someone else for a change.”

The uncertainty. “It’s really okay?” That palpable fear. “It’s okay that I have to go to this doctor?” This shame. “It’s okay that I have these… thoughts and feelings?”

Vegeta nodded yes. 

“Will people hate me if they find out? Will they be afraid of me?”

“They shouldn’t, but if they do, that is their problem. Not yours.”

“Do… do _you_ think of me differently?”

His lips curled into a tiny smile. “In a way, yes.” He squeezed Goku’s hand when he felt it start to slide out from under his. “A good way.” Vegeta pressed down a little onto that hand, staring at it as he admitted aloud, “I’m proud of you.” He continued after Goku’s sharp gasp. “You’re not letting a problem fester. You’re attacking it head on like a warrior by listening to Gohan and going to that doctor. You found something about yourself and you’re working to change that. And your intentions of not burdening others was a worthy endeavor. Even when you are hurting yourself, you actively seek to not hurt others. Even if it’s to your detriment.” He finally looked up, meeting Goku’s wide-eyed stare. “But you opened up to someone. To me, of all people.” He chuckled. “It wasn’t in the best way possible, but still. You have courage, Kakarot. Courage and perseverance, like a true Saiyan.” 

In an instant, Goku sprung away from the headboard, flinging his long arms around Vegeta’s back, pulling him close. Those arms crushed him tight, burying Vegeta into the crook of Goku’s neck, while Goku shoved his face into the top of Vegeta’s scalp. 

Slowly, Vegeta wrapped his arms around Goku’s waist, closing his eyes. Taking in his scent. The heat of his skin. His warm, muscled body. How nice this felt. 

He stroked one of his palms up and down the length of Goku’s spine, from the base of his neck, right to the stub of his tail scar, again and again. Listening to his wet breathing. Feeling his tiny little shakes. 

Against his scalp, Vegeta felt and heard Goku whisper, “I’m so scared. I’ve never been scared like this before because I don’t know what any of this means. I don’t feel in control of my body. I hate feeling like this.” Those arms crushed him tighter. “I hate who I am.”

Vegeta slid his hands away from Goku’s back to Goku’s shoulders. He pushed against Goku’s arms and they relented, releasing him from that tight grip.

Warm palms cupped each of his own shoulders. Vegeta looked Goku right in the eye as he said, “I’ll help you.”

“You shouldn’t—”

“I want to.”

“Vegeta—”

“You taught me how to trust, Kakarot. _You_. I didn’t know how to trust until you showed me. So since you trust me to share this part of yourself, it’s only fair I give that trust back in return, by not leaving your side through all of this. So you have someone there to pick you up when you fall. So you have someone there to hold you and not judge you when you need it.” He lifted a hand away from Goku’s shoulder to cup the side of his cheek. “So you know you’re not alone.” 

Those eyes welled up with tears. Needed tears. “Vegeta…” 

“I saved you once before, Kakarot.” He rubbed his thumb under Goku’s eye, over the pale cheekbone. “I’ll happily do it again.”

There should’ve been a voice inside himself yelling at him to stop this, to not do this, that this was wrong, that this wasn’t right. That Goku wasn’t in the right mindset to begin with. But no voice like that emerged inside Vegeta. He heard nothing, felt nothing, but peace. Complete peace as he looked at Goku and cupped his cheek, how his eyes shined, how his lips trembled, how he looked in this moment—and how he almost lost that. How he nearly lost this opportunity, this man, by his own hand no less, and how he wouldn’t repeat that mistake again. 

Goku stuttered out, “H-How did you s-save me before?”

Vegeta chuckled, tilting his head a little to the side. “Remember when Trunks fed Mai that senzu bean by chewing it up and covering her mouth with his?”

“Y-You kissed me?” 

He nodded yes.

A blush bloomed across the top of Goku’s nose, spreading to his cheeks. A sight Vegeta burned into his memory. “I’m sorry you had to do that.”

“I didn’t mind.”

That blush intensified as Goku whispered, “I sorta wish I was awake for that.”

Vegeta leaned in. “Well.” He slid his hand down to Goku’s chin, holding it in his fingers. “You are now.” 

Goku’s eyes fluttered shut first. His own soon followed.

Lips touched. Gentle pressure. Side of nose pressed to the other. Warm skin. Rush of blood in the head. Heartbeat intensifying. 

Sweet. Inviting. A bit unsure. 

Vegeta tilted Goku’s chin to the side, pulling back for a moment. When he came back in, parted lips met. Tentative. Relaxed. 

He released Goku’s chin to cup his hand to the back of his neck, fingers brushing the base of his hairline. Vegeta teased Goku’s bottom lip with the tip of his tongue and enjoyed the sound of Goku’s sharp gasp. 

Again, he pulled away to give him a moment, and then dove right in again, parted lips meeting once more. This time, he teased both of Goku’s upper and lower lips, tracing the lines inch by inch—and he released a gasp of his own when Goku’s tongue touched his for a brief second. 

Electricity coursed through his body, right from the base of his spine and his belly. He took his time, delving his tongue inside Goku’s mouth, and he burned the sensations, the sounds, into his memory. The gasp from Goku. His small moan when their tongues curled around each other. When he sucked on Goku’s tongue a few times with his own while he played with the nape of Goku’s neck. How Goku’s unsure fingers mimicked him as they kissed, fumbling with his own nape, the base of his own hairline, and Vegeta showed his approval with his own moan, his own gasp. Showing Goku he was doing just fine. More than fine. 

On the next kiss, Goku’s tongue touched his first. Slipped into his mouth first. Sucked on his tongue as he did earlier, and Vegeta moaned, pulling Goku closer to him, tighter. Chest met chest. Both of his hands came into play, sliding into Goku’s hair, scraping his scalp, and he shivered at Goku’s long moan and the jolt of his body thrusting against his. How Goku tried mimicking him again, skipping his fingertips over Vegeta’s scalp. Still exploring. Still figuring things out. And that was fine with him. For Vegeta, Goku determined the pace, what was to potentially happen, everything. 

He let Goku end the kiss this time. Let him press their foreheads together, the tips of their noses pressed together. Harsh breathing between them. Sweat under Vegeta’s fingertips. Warmth all over. Goku’s warm, large chest. 

Against his lips, Goku whispered, “Vegeta…” Like a gasp. A needed breath. “I…” The sound of a tongue over dry lips. “I don’t—” A frustrated sigh, accompanied by fingers digging into his hair.

Vegeta suppressed his wince. He leaned back, holding Goku’s bowed head in both of his hands, staring at his forehead and long bangs that covered his eyes. “Talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I-I don’t know.” Goku shook his head. “These feelings—they’re so new to me. I don’t—I don’t understand them.” 

“We can stop—”

Hands flew out of Vegeta’s hair to grasp his shoulders. “No, no please—” Goku shook his head, sweat flying. “I liked it. I really, _really_ like it. I just—I don’t—” Finally, he lifted his head, and Vegeta cherished what he saw: dilated, big black eyes, a dark red blush, a flushed face, sweat on his brow and upper lip—pure, unfiltered arousal. “What’re you _doing_ to me, Vegeta? I feel hot _everywhere_. I can barely breathe. It’s like I’m gonna explode and all we did was kiss.”

A dark thought crossed his mind, one that made Vegeta frown. “Have you ever felt desirable, Kakarot?”

Something in his chest broke when Goku asked, “What does that mean?”

Vegeta never looked away as he spoke, sliding his hands out of Goku’s hair, fingertips skipping over each side of Goku’s neck, right to his collarbones. “Feeling desirable is when you are the only thing that matters to the other person.” He traced the curve of each collarbone from the hollow of his throat, out to his shoulders. “When someone touches you—” Ran his fingertips down Goku’s developed biceps. “Kisses you—“ Down to the top of his hands. “Looks at you—“ He twined their fingers together again. “Like you are the sexiest thing they have ever seen.” Vegeta lifted both of their twined hands together until they rested between their chest. “Like you are their fantasy coming to life and all they want is you.” He kissed one set of Goku’s knuckles. “All they desire is you—” Then the other, without looking away. “And you alone.” 

Those hands in his trembled like little earthquakes. Goku himself trembled all over too. But he didn’t look away either. He looked right at Vegeta, and Vegeta felt the pride in his chest swell at how Goku fought his fear and didn’t run away. 

“I feel that now,” Goku said. “With you. You’re doing all that right now, to me.” 

Vegeta released their hands. “Is that okay?” He guided Goku’s palms to the curvature of his own shoulders, resting his own hands on top. “Do you like what I’m doing to you?”

Goku nodded a few times. “I’m—” His breath hitched. He licked his lips slow, his breathing picking up. “I’m a little dizzy and hot and I feel like I’m going to pass out, but…” He let loose a wobbly, shy smile. “I feel good too. It feels nice.” 

He removed his hands from on top of Goku’s to slide both of his palms and fingertips up and down Goku’s biceps, triceps and forearms. “I’m glad, but we can stop right now, Kakarot. If this is enough for you, we can stop right here. You don’t have to do anything to me, and I don’t have to do anything to you. I will respect your boundaries.”

Goku’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?” 

“Of course. Your pleasure, your thoughts and feelings—they matter a lot to me. I will not push or coerce you into anything. You have all the power right now.” He stopped his movements to bring his arms back to his own sides. “I won’t even kiss you again, if that is what you want.”

“No no no, you can do that!” Goku squeezed the juncture of his shoulders. “I liked the kissing! A lot! I like how they felt a lot! I just—” He glanced down between them—at the tent that popped up under the sheets—Goku’s blush intensified. “It was a lot.”

Vegeta chuckled. He leaned in to kiss Goku on the lips again, wrapping his arms around Goku’s waistline once more. It was a soft, quicker kiss than the last ones, but just as sweet and just as nice. “More than fine to feel that way,” he said, nudging Goku’s nose with his. 

“It is?” Goku released his shoulders to hug him back too, wrapping his large arms around Vegeta’s own waist. “It’s really okay?”

“Yes.” 

“Oh. Okay then.”

Vegeta brushed the tip of his nose to Goku’s one last time before he started to pull both of them down towards the bed. Goku followed, not letting go of his own waist either. He did release one hand to run his fingertips up and down the side of Goku’s jawline, having never looked away this whole time. 

Goku never looked away either. He felt one of Goku’s arms leave his waist to mimic his own movements. Vegeta smiled at the tentative fingertips running up and down the side of his jawline, over his cheekbone, the corner of his lips. Absolutely innocent. Precious. Very much like the man himself, and Vegeta treasured every second of this quiet moment between them. The way Goku looked. The way he felt in his arms. 

He moved his hand towards Goku’s lips. Traced them with the pad of his thumb. Watched Goku part those lips, and Vegeta teased the bottom lip with slow, deliberate strokes. Taking his time. Watching Goku’s reactions. Waiting for permission. For whatever he wanted. 

Then Goku followed suit. Vegeta couldn’t resist smirking when Goku’s thumb ran over his own bottom lip—nor could he resist giving it a tentative lick with the tip of his tongue. 

The sight of Goku’s gasp, the way he moaned—how he followed suit again, licking Vegeta’s thumb too with the tip of his own tongue—it took everything in Vegeta to not kiss him again. To not shove his thumb inside and make Goku suck on it. He wasn’t going to give into his baser instincts. 

In a husky voice, Vegeta asked, “Do you want me to stop?” He took his thumb away to then glide his fingertips up and down the middle of Goku’s chest. “It’s okay to say no. You can say no, and I won’t hurt you.” He leaned in closer, so he could hear Goku’s gasps better, his pants better, feel his heartbeat better, feel his skin, his body. Everything. He laid his head close to Goku’s on the pillow, nose brushing nose. “You are in control. You won’t hurt me. All I want to do is take care of you.” His fingertips slowly trailed down to Goku’s belly button. “All I want is for you to feel good.” He stopped right at the edge of the bedsheet, right where it started to tent up. “Because you matter, Kakarot.” His voice turned wet. “You matter to me.”

He didn’t mind Goku crushing his lips to his. Didn’t mind at all when Goku clawed at his hair, his neck, his shoulders and his back. Didn’t care whatsoever that the kiss was all teeth and tongue and sloppy and messy. Because this was for him, for Goku. Whatever he wanted. Whatever he needed. Anything he desired, so the man knew he wasn’t alone. So Goku knew he was desirable, wanted, needed, safe— 

A strong hand wrapped around his wrist, jerking it down under the sheets. 

Vegeta gasped into Goku’s mouth. 

Hot flesh in his palm. Goku’s fingers on top of his, squeezing his cock together. Stroking it together. 

Goku guided his hand, showing him what to do, what he wanted, and Vegeta followed. Vegeta succumbed to Goku’s kiss, Goku’s wandering hand in his hair, Goku’s tongue, Goku’s hand over his, Goku’s cock, and it felt absolutely amazing. The sweat on his upper lip, the way Goku bucked into both of their hands, how Goku dug his fingers into his scalp in a way Vegeta didn’t know he craved in that moment and loved it—it was everything he needed and more. Everything he wanted too. 

Everything felt just _right._

That hand left his—and Vegeta groaned when Goku’s fingers wrapped around his own cock under the sheets. He followed Goku’s lead, sliding his free hand into Goku’s hair while the other worked his cock. He memorized every ridge, every vein, how the head felt in his palm, how long it was, how so much precum leaked from the tip to guide his way. How Goku sounded when Vegeta thumbed the underside of his tip. How Goku started bucking up faster into his fist, straight up fucking it without rhythm and without thought, panting into his mouth, tongue tasting tongue, saliva leaking out between their lips, and Vegeta peaked his eyes open, pushing his own rising pleasure back, to see how Goku looked in that moment. 

Tightly shut eyes. Sheen of heavy sweat over his face, neck and collarbones. Bangs clinging to his forehead and cheeks. Absolutely lost in pleasure, right in front of him, right on the pillow beside him, right on this bed they shared—because of him. Goku, falling apart, because of his hand. All because Goku trusted him. Because Goku wanted this—wanted _him_. 

Vegeta groaned out, “Kakarot,” his eyes finally falling shut. 

Pleasure coiled up inside, right at the bottom of his belly. His hips jackknifed up into Goku’s inexperienced working fist, and it felt amazing. The heat between them, their sweat, the smell of Goku’s cum, of his own cum, the sounds coming from Goku—his moans, his faster and faster breathing, his hitches, his whines— 

Goku’s frantic hand clung hard into his scalp. Nails dug into the flesh. He didn’t lose his rhythm when Goku crushed him to his chest, didn’t stop moving when Goku’s hips moved faster, didn’t care that Goku stopped moving his hand over his cock, because Goku was losing it, and Vegeta knew it, he could feel it. The way Goku’s belly tightened against his fist, how his cock swelled, how he lost all control of his hips, how he panted and whined without thought, he was close, he was so _close_ and Vegeta wanted it, he _needed_ to see it, needed to make Goku feel so good—

Hot wetness poured down his hand, staining the bedsheets.

Over chattering teeth, Goku cried on top of his lungs, “ _Vegetaaaaah_!”

That cock pulsing in his hand. Goku’s continuous, wordless cries and whines. How much come flowed out of him and over his hand, slicking up Vegeta’s movements. How Goku fell to pieces beside him, because of _him,_ and Vegeta sunk his teeth into one of Goku’s pecs, hissing for air through his nose, taking in Goku’s scent with each inhale, burning it into his memory, milking Goku through his orgasm. 

He chased his own orgasm to the sounds Goku made, the sensations of Goku’s orgasm, the realization that _he_ did this to Goku, he did this, him, only him, he made him feel good, he did what he wanted to do, what he needed to do, he made _his_ Goku feel good— 

Goku rewrapped his fingers around Vegeta’s cock and gave it one good, long stroke. 

Vegeta growled into Goku’s pec, coming over Goku’s fist, staining the sheet too. He kept moving through his orgasm, muffling his own cries, his own whimpers and whines into Goku’s skin, until Goku’s hand stopped moving and released his cock slowly. He too followed suit, releasing Goku’s spent cock as well. 

His jaw cracked when Vegeta dislodged his teeth from Goku’s pec—and he frowned at the sight of a bruise forming there. A painful looking, purple-red bruise. 

He didn’t get the opportunity to apologize. Not when Goku crushed him right back to his chest, hugging him tighter than any time before. It knocked the wind and the dark thoughts right out of Vegeta, where the only thing he could do was return the favor, wrapping his own arms just as tight around Goku’s trembling form. 

Against his scalp, Vegeta heard Goku murmur, “Thank you.” A big inhale followed, then a long, hot, wet-sounding exhale. “Gods, thank you. Thank you, thank you— _oh gods_.” A sniff. “V-Vegeta—” Another sniff. “Shit, Vegeta, I think—I think—Vegeta, I—” 

Vegeta used the last of his strength to pull himself out of Goku’s embrace to look him right in the eyes. 

Wet cheeks, from tears and from sweat. Drenched hair. Parted red lips. Wide eyes, full of uncertainty and fear, and that wouldn’t do. Not at all. 

“I love you too,” Vegeta said. 

Those black eyes nearly popped out of Goku’s head. 

“I mean it, Kakarot.” His unstained hand gripped the back of Goku’s neck, holding it firm. “I’ll say it as much as you need. Even in our native language if you want. _M’eh t’sha au, m’yo Kakarotto._ I love you, my Kakarot.” He squeezed his neck. “I love _you_.”

Goku’s wobbly smile matched the wobbliness of his voice. “I love you too, Vegeta.”

Vegeta smirked, pulling Goku into a quick, chaste kiss. 

The stained sheets didn’t matter. Neither did the sweat and the cum on their bodies. Only this. Only Goku, in his arms, laying beside him in this bed, in this safe space. If Goku wanted to spend more time here, Vegeta would honor it. If he wanted to leave tomorrow, or soon, Vegeta would follow. He wasn’t going anywhere. Goku was his now—and he was Goku’s. 

He kissed Goku’s sweaty forehead in front of him, running his fingers up and down Goku’s sweaty back and side—and he smiled as Goku repeated the same actions, gentle, sweet strokes roaming over his body. 

Sleep itched on the edges of his mind, and he sighed, closing his eyes. Eventually, he stopped moving his hand, resting it on the swell of Goku’s hip. Goku did the same as well to his own. 

Vegeta heard Goku murmur, “You’ll still be here when I wake up... right, Vegeta?”

He kissed Goku’s forehead one more time, whispering against the skin, “Yes.”

His body stayed against Goku’s the whole time during sleep, his hand staying on Goku’s hip, his lips a touch away from Goku’s forehead. Goku never moved too, his hand on Vegeta’s hip, curled up against Vegeta’s body. They slept on, dreamless, at ease, in peace. 


End file.
